Just One of Those Things
by lee.hunter
Summary: Quinn Fabray, a hypochondriac truck driver, just wants to live a quiet simple life. All that changes when she falls in love with Rachel Berry, a diner waitress with Stress Induced Incontinence and a dream to be a Broadway star. Before either girl can say, "what the what" they get pulled into an assassination plot involving the Oklahoma City mafia. (AU Faberry)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi, this is an idea I've had floating around in my head for a bit and I finally got around to getting it down. This is my first fanfic, so I guess we'll see how it goes. Reviews/critiques encouraged.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that has to do with Glee, if I did I'd be cruising on my Ducati right now. **

Quinn Fabray sat staring at the diner from the cab of her mac truck. The narcoleptic fluorescent lights from the diner illuminated her pale face one moment, then cast her into darkness the next. The diner was one of those 50s revivals that in its heyday would not have been out of place on the set of American Graffiti. Unfortunately, it's glory days were far behind and all that was left of the once glistening edifice of chrome and neon was a tarnished exterior, and red lacquered booths held together with duct tape. Although the diner was rundown and crippled, with windows that stared with the vacant expression of an Alzheimer's patient, it felt like home to anyone who crossed the threshold.

Despite her insistent stomach, Quinn couldn't bring herself to leave the safety of her truck and enter the diner, couldn't force herself to enter the building that boasted the biggest, sweetest, tastiest flapjacks this side of the Rio Grande. Just thinking about that towering fortress of flattened pastries made her mouth water. She could almost see the pat of butter melting into a puddle of deliciousness, sending rivulets to cascade and bumble their way down the buttresses of the pancakes. She wiped absently at a bit a drool that had escaped the corner of her mouth. Her stomach demanded appeasement and thundered within the confines of the the trucks cab.

Regardless of her rude stomach doing a rather impressive imitation of Thor with the morning grumps, and despite the spittle that had settled in her mouth and tasted like the stale cornchips she'd found under the passenger seat at a pit stop in Chickasha, she just couldn't find the will to make the hand holding the handle to the trucks door actually go through the motions required to open it. It all came down to one emotion: fear.

Quinn Fabray was terrified. Her anal sphincter kept clenching and unclenching like a body builder on display. As she watched the diner, the object of her terror came into view wearing a short onesie dress the color of Pepto Bismol and carrying three plates of pancakes stacked so high that they made the Tower of Babel look like a tenement. Squirt.

Her real name was Rachel Berry, but everyone called her Squirt. Most people thought it was because of her diminutive stature, but those close to her knew the moniker originated from Rachel's unfortunate habit of wetting herself slightly whenever she laughed too hard. She had been to see several doctors about her Stress Induced Incontinence, but they told her there wasn't much to do about the condition but try and strengthen her urinary meatus by performing Kegel exercises on a regular basis. As a side effect of constantly keeping her pelvic floor engaged, Rachel's back bowed slightly like a constipated dog, and her face squinched on occasion making it look like a grape on its way to becoming a raisin.

Quinn was in love with Rachel. She knew this because every time she saw her she became nauseated. The first time it happened Quinn thought it was the questionable jerky she'd found in her glove compartment. The second time it happened she rushed herself to the emergency room, certain she had some sort of rare stomach cancer or a vengeful GERD relapse. After running several exhaustive tests, the doctors discovered there was nothing wrong with her, with the exception of an ingrown toenail. After it happened a third time, Quinn knew she was in love.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Much thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/followed. You guys are awesome! Some of you may be wondering what exactly this story is, so I'll tell you: I have no idea. I'm just holding on to the hem of my muse's toga as she drags me through a field littered with cow paddies. Hopefully the story will contain a bit of romance, a couple laughs, and probably some mayhem. **

**Disclaimer: Don't have any affiliation with Glee, with the exception of feeling the emotion whenever I smell Cinnabon. **

When it came to love Quinn Fabray was terrible at it. In her 26 years on earth, she had had three relationships, all ending with Quinn hunched over a 1/2 gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Girlfriend #1 was a physical trainer and gymnast from Tulsa. They met when Quinn received a free training session for signing up at a new gym. Quinn fell into lust straight away. Dotty was all willowy muscle and had skin the color and texture of a worn saddle. She smelled like Cocoa Banana and hand chalk, a combination that Quinn found to be strangely erotic. That night after the session, Quinn found out firsthand what it felt like to be a pummel horse.

Things ended abruptly when Quinn came home one night and discovered Dotty in bed with a chicken. Quinn had come home early from a trip to Denver, and intent on a romantic night of star gazing and ice cream sandwiches she had purchased everything and run home to surprise Dotty with candlelight and rose petals. The first thing she noticed when she walked through the door was a pervading smell of fried chicken. She smiled to herself thinking that Dotty must have figured out somehow that Quinn was coming home early, and made her dinner. With a large, happy grin plastered on her face she started to make her way toward the kitchen at the back of the house. That's when she heard a noise coming from the upstairs bedroom. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, Quinn cocked her head to the side trying to ascertain what the noise was. It sounded like a hyena that had been thrown into a sack and then put into a tumble dryer on low. Making her way up the stairs, she pushed open the bedroom door to find Dotty with her head buried in between the legs of the Quic-Chick, the local fried chicken fast food place, mascot. Both were naked, with the exception of the mascot still wearing the headpiece, the oversized chicken head banging into the headboard with every enthusiastic thrust from Dotty.

"What the hell!"

Startled, Dotty flew backwards from her place nestled in between the chicken's legs, did a somersault off the back of the bed, landed on her feet and stood with arms upraised with true gymnast flair.

"Quinn! This isn't what it looks like."

"Really? Because it looks like I just caught you elbow deep in a bucket of extra crispy!" She turned to the girl/chicken cowering against the headboard.

"I mean really, have you never heard of a shower?"

"Quinn, let's not get excited, remember your blood pressure?"

Quinn let out a feral war whoop, and started to beat Dotty over the head with the bundle of roses she still had clasped in her hand. Dotty scampered about the room, trying to avoid the furious onslaught of petals. She dove, tucked, and rolled her way through the open bedroom door.

"Get out!"

The chicken jumped off the bed as Quinn turned to her with a murderous glint in her eye. She ran for the open door, but her giant chicken head hit the frame and her feet flew up into the air, and she crashed to the floor.

"Out! Out! Out!" Quinn continued to scream as she began ripping apart her bedding, down feathers floating through the air creating a blizzard of fluff.

The chicken staggered to her feet and sprinted for the stairs, tripping on Zsa Zsa, Quinn's white Persian cat. The chicken crashed down the stairs, howling like an injured coyote. The sound of the mascot tumbling down the stairs was enough to stir Quinn from her rage, and she ran to the banister terrified of finding a now dead and broken body that she was going to have to somehow come up with a way of disposing. By the time Quinn got to the stairs, the chicken had already gotten up, and run through the front door, dashing unsteadily across Quinn's front lawn with her hands covering her most private parts.

No matter how many times Quinn Febreezed her mattress, she couldn't get the smell of fried chicken out of it. Eventually she gave up and just bought a new one. The sight of drumsticks still made Quinn queasy.

Quinn met Girlfriend #2 while shopping for candles at a New Age shop. She was looking for something special for her mother's birthday, and thought a nice smelling fancy candle that boasted an increase in longevity to whoever lit it would be a nice gift. Much better than the Staples gift card she had given her mom the year before. Quinn had been discreetly perusing the love tokens, when she was startled as a wispy breath brushed by her ear.

"You're looking for love."

Quinn spun around quickly and dropped the book she had been secretly thumbing through.

"No I'm not."

The woman in front of her glanced down at the book at Quinn's feet, the title "Singled Out: A Way to Break the Trend and Find Love" staring up at both of them.

"You don't have to pretend you know. I could sense your despair from across the store." She raised her hands and began moving them in front of Quinn as if trying to disperse a foul smell.

"Your aura is very troubled."

Quinn raised a single eyebrow in retort.

"Uh huh. Well, thank you for that. I think I'm just going to go now."

The woman reached out a hand, and grabbed a hold of Quinn's wrist. A part of Quinn wanted to jerk away from the contact, and walk out the door vowing never to entertain such cockamamie schemes again. She'd just buy her mom candles at Wal-Mart like everyone else. A much bigger part of her, however, couldn't help but notice how warm and comforting the woman's touch was. It had been a long time since someone had touched her, and she couldn't help but visualize what those long nimble fingers might be able to do. She shook her head to clear it of the gutter, and glanced up to find piercing blue eyes staring back at her.

"I can help you."

The skeptic in Quinn scoffed loudly.

"How?"

"I'm a love expert."

"A love expert?"

"Yes, I am after all the reincarnation of Anne Boleyn."

Quinn began to blink rapidly, trying to make sense of what she was just told.

"The reincarnation of Anne Boleyn."

The woman nodded, and looked at her with a slight smile on her face, and a dreamy look in her eyes. Ok, so the woman was crazy, but Quinn couldn't help but be slightly intrigued.

"What does that have to do with being a love expert?"

The woman laughed lightly, and began slowly brushing her thumb along the inside of Quinn's wrist, shooting warm tingles up her arm.

"I got a King to break away from the Catholic church for me." She slowly slid her hand up Quinn's arm, settling on her bicep. Well if a King couldn't help but be seduced by her charms, who was Quinn to deny her? She smiled at the woman.

"I'm Quinn."

The woman smiled in return.

"Evelyn."

Quinn raised a questioning eyebrow. As if reading her mind, Evelyn's smile grew.

"Well, I can't very well go by Anne Boleyn now can I?" Quinn just shrugged her shoulders in reply. Honestly she had no idea what the rules and regulations involving reincarnation were, so she just decided to go with it.

"Well, it's a pleasure Evelyn."

If it were possible the woman's smile grew even more, almost reaching demonic proportions.

"It certainly will be."

They dated for three months, and despite Evelyn having an acute panic attack every time a window slammed shut, things went fairly smoothly. Until Quinn came home one day to find her house completely trashed and an irate Evelyn accusing Quinn of having an affair with her sister. Evelyn didn't have a sister.

Girlfriend #3 was a reformed Christian from Shawnee. They dated for six weeks before Quinn even got a kiss. Ten weeks to get to second base. Fourteen weeks for them to have sex which kept going for three days before Quinn developed a callous and begged for a reprieve. It was during this reprieve that Girlfriend #3 met, fell in love, and then ran away with a Bible salesman from the Duluth. They took Quinn's cat Zsa Zsa, which she wasn't too sad to see go, and stole her collection of Xena Warrior Princess action figures, which loss made Quinn cry for a week.

As Quinn sat in the cab of her truck, she watched through the front windows of the diner, as Rachel tossed her head back and laughed at something a customer said. Sighing with a mixture of longing and frustration, Quinn ran a hand through her blond locks, wincing at the slightly greasy feel. She took a deep breath, opened the truck's door, hopped down to the pavement below, and slowly made her way toward the diner entrance.


End file.
